


Love Me Blue

by loveandbeloved



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Liam is an experienced model, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Zayn just shows up because of Louis, and they cuddle and stuff because I'm soft, no smut just some hinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandbeloved/pseuds/loveandbeloved
Summary: “Could I have your number?”To Zayn’s fascination, Liam’s cheeks flush even darker, and he instantly begins to babble “I mean, like, well you said you didn’t know, and um, I was just, well like, I know how to walk and stuff, and I was thinking,” before Zayn cuts him off with a gentle “Liam.”Liam’s mouth snaps shut and Zayn grins at him. “Of course you can have my number, you donut,”oran AU where veteran model!Liam meets and coaches aspiring model!Zayn at a photoshoot.





	Love Me Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you to Kat for giving me this idea and the motivation to finally publish something 1D related!  
> I know almost nothing about modeling so this is probably super inaccurate, and it's basically a bunch of pure fluff but I hope you all enjoy it. If you have any suggestions or find any mistakes please let me know because I didn't edit this a ton. Thanks!

The first thing Zayn is going to do when he gets home is murder Louis, because only Louis could get him into a mess like this.

Of course it isn’t as horrifying as the time Louis signed Zayn up to work in a travelling circus when they were 15, and his dad had to get involved to stop the bearded lady from packing Zayn away with lions and elephants, all because the concession stand where Zayn worked made five times more than any of the others. (Yaser had to gently but firmly explain that his son’s attractiveness _doesn’t_ suddenly make him a legal adult or a permanent part of the pretzel stand, and sorry, but he has school on Monday.)

And it doesn’t make him want to melt into the floor like the time 17 year old Louis thought it would be fun to ask the pretty blonde in world history out for coffee on Zayn’s behalf, despite the fact that Zayn doesn’t drink coffee _and_ doesn’t swing that way. (It was the most awkward ten minute date he’s ever been on, and the poor girl didn’t look at him again for the rest of the school year, which was definitely for the best.)

And it isn’t as humiliating as the time he signed Zayn up to perform an original song in their school’s senior talent show, regardless of the fact that Zayn has never written a song and won’t sing outside of his shower. (A well-timed stomach bug got him out of that terrible day, even though his classmates teased him for weeks afterwards and his mum definitely knew that he wasn’t sick.)

And it hasn’t turned his cheeks bright pink like the time Louis dug through his sketchbooks and submitted one of his original comic book characters to a national art show where he went on to win third place. (Secretly though, he soaked up the kind words and praise like his life depended on it because he hadn’t even been _trying_ , and unbiased opinions are hard to come by when you are constantly smothered by your massive loving family and annoying, loyal, encouraging asshole friends. Still, it’s the principle of the thing.)

So no, it’s not the worst thing that Louis has pushed him into, but that doesn’t do anything to quench his rage in the moment.

“NEXT,” the sweaty man at the door bellows at a volume too loud for the small crowd. His greasy ponytail, potbelly, and tacky sunglasses despite the lack of sun indoors make Zayn shiver. Louis is so gonna get it.

The room is small, with warped hardwood floors and high ceilings held up by half rotten wooden beams. The jagged concrete walls cool the room and enhance the musky feel of the place. It’s nothing like the glamourous waiting room he envisioned, complete with white plush couches and complementary cucumber water. No, this place gives off an air of thinly veiled desperation masked carefully by cologne, hairspray, nail polish and fake smiles.

The majority of the crowd is composed of men, although the auditions were supposedly open to everyone. In hindsight, Louis didn’t give him much to go off of, just that it was an audition with the time and location. If there’s a method to the madness, Zayn hasn’t figured it out yet. Despite the fact that most of the people in the room seem to know each other, no one is interacting. Some are tuned into their phones, some are staring off into space, and a few are even doing crunches on the floor.

No one has emerged from the room beyond their little holding cell. Zayn chuckles lowly to himself, because at least in prison you don’t have to share your space with a ton of distractingly attractive people.

The boy to Zayn’s left has the sharpest cheekbones he’s ever seen, with big blue eyes, soft blonde curls, and an unkind smirk on his pink lips. He’s tall and lithe, with wiry muscles and an air of superiority. Striking, but in a forgettable way that is unsettling.

The girl in front of him wears a crop top revealing her tiny tanned waist and laddered ribcage, long legs peeking out from under a loud patterned skirt. He’s sure she worked hard for that physique, and her face is probably just as aesthetically pleasing as her body, not that he’s interested in the slightest.

If there was any way to make a graceful exit at this point, Zayn would already be out the door. Alas, short of simply admitting defeat and risking the wrath of Louis, he can’t think of an alternative. Louis will mock him for weeks if he can’t even get through one dumb audition. He sighs, resigning himself to a few uncomfortable hours.

Slowly, the crowd thins as more and more people disappear behind the door, most of them sashaying as if they are already auditioning. Maybe they are. Those weird looking knobs on the ceiling may very well be cameras. Add it to the list of things that Zayn is clueless about and doesn’t care to know.

Modeling isn’t something that Zayn ever considered. Modeling is for people that care about their appearance and want people to appreciate them for their bodies, and Zayn stopped trying to impress people years ago.

His wardrobe consists of band tees and loose jumpers, skinny jeans and clunky boots with chunky rings. He only shaves when he can’t stand the feeling of his own beard any longer, most recently a week ago. His hair grows until his mum deems him unruly and forces him into his aunt’s salon.

Zayn scrubs as hand through his messy fringe, suddenly thinking that maybe he should’ve styled himself a bit before showing up to be judged on his appearance. Oh well.

He glances to the side as the man yells again, his heart sinking as he realizes that he is only one other person in the room. Well fuck. ‘Like a lamb to the slaughter,’ Zayn thinks as he shuffles forwards. The doorman claps him on the shoulder and huffs out an oily “Good luck kid,” before stepping back to usher Zayn through.

Zayn strides forward, praying that his face doesn’t look as terrified as he feels. “Nothing like shitting yourself to make an impression during an audition,” he mumbles wryly as the heavy door slams shut behind him to seal his fate. Fucking Louis.

 

***

 

The first thing Liam is going to do when he gets home is murder Harry, because only Harry would get him into a mess like this without even trying.

The worst part of having the sweetest human alive as your best friend and manager is that when Harry’s big mouth gets Liam into hot water, it’s impossible to stay angry with him. In the past three years, Harry’s good intentions have gotten Liam into a fairly equal number of unbelievable gigs and less-than-ideal predicaments. His current position is firmly the latter.

This time around, Harry has signed Liam up to help select new faces for the launching of Armani’s Fall-Winter collection. Oh, and not only is he going to choose these models, he is also going to ensure that they are all up to “company standards.” In other words, if any of them are out of line, Liam has to be the bad guy and tell them to shape up. As he is arguably Armani’s most recognizable model, Liam is well aware of the expectations, but that isn’t reassuring in the slightest. Following the rules and teaching them to others are very different things.

For many models, getting to critique others is a welcome change of pace, but not for Liam. Telling people they aren’t fit enough or dedicated enough or _natural_ enough for the part (as if anything about this industry is natural) makes his hands sweat and his skin crawl. And don’t even get him started on the entitlement and pretentious attitudes of a majority of those on his side of the table. You’d think they shit gold and wake up runway ready, as if they didn’t start out exactly like all of the hopeful candidates they’ve seen over the past three days.

“Payno?” Niall’s voice cuts into his thoughts, startling him back to reality. He turns to look at the other members of the panel and is met with three pairs of annoyed eyes, plus Niall’s amused gaze.

Niall is like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stale warehouse. The Irishman is a world-renowned fashion designer, responsible for most of this season’s best styles, although you wouldn’t know it by the way he looks or acts. Niall is all sweatshirts and ripped skinny jeans stained with takeout from days before; comfy in a way that puts Liam at ease without any effort.

“You okay man?” Niall questions, spewing out small bits of mashed up chips onto the table in front of them. Where Liam sweats his way through auditions, Niall eats his way through. He always moans about his weight gain after the selection process, but it’s the only way the easy going lad is able to sit through days of people walking around in front of them while hoping to impress.

Liam hums, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing down at his watch. Nearly half five. “Just a bit tired,” he mumbles softly.

“You and me both mate,” Niall giggles, and Liam winces as more food debris goes flying.

“So,” Ben interjects, clearly displeased (although that’s nothing new. Liam can’t think of a time where Ben didn’t look like he just bit into a lemon to be honest). “Would you care to share your thoughts on the last set then Liam?”

Liam feels his face heat up slightly, and he scrambles to grab his notes. “Um, I liked 32’s attitude. Very fresh and a clean walk so should be low maintenance. 33 seemed a bit too stiff. Not sure if he’ll look comfortable in the photoshoot.”

His eyes skim the rest of the page. 34 was a mess. He had a nice build but walked like he had a rod up his bum with the facial expression to match. James has literally laughed out loud at him, startling the model and making Liam’s ears burn red from embarrassment on his behalf. 35 was just too broad, and Niall had said as much already.

“Think that’s it,” he finishes, smoothing his notes and then folding his hands in his lap. Sharon hums, “so just 32 from that set then?” and scribbles down their choices on the master list.

“Alright, next please!” James calls to the assistant standing by the mini runway. She nods and disappears behind the makeshift wall as Bruno Mars pours out of the speakers, setting a nice beat.

“Almost done mate,” Niall nudges him as they wait, his eyes crinkling up in a grin. “Wanna grab a pint after we get out of here?”

Liam can think of a lot of things he’d rather do, but Niall is flying back to the States in a few days. A couple drinks wouldn’t hurt, he reasons, but before he can answer, the next candidate appears.

Liam can count on one hand the number of times he’s been left speechless in the past couple years. If you’ve seen one beautiful person, you’ve seen them all basically, but Liam’s brain seems to have forgotten that fact, as he leans forward to take in the scene in front of him.

The man striding down the runway is positively ethereal. He’s shorter than most of the models they’ve seen today, with wide hazel eyes, jet black hair, defined cheekbones with just a trace of baby fat that gives away his youth, and a subtle fuck-you attitude that hits Liam square in the chest and knocks him breathless. His arms are stained with intricate swirls of ink that Liam would love to trace himself later (with his fingers and his tongue until this boy is _squirming_ for Liam).

He’s all firm muscles and hard lines mixed with soft hair, thick lashes, and full lips; the perfect combination of masculine and feminine that Liam (and everyone really) is a sucker for.

His walk gives away his inexperience, and it’s the only sign of hesitancy that he shows. With a little tweaking, he’ll be perfect, Liam thinks.

The audition ends as abruptly as it begins, as the boy retraces his steps, disappearing behind the wall without preamble. Liam slumps back in his seat, feeling more awake that he has all day, but somehow drained as well. Damn.

“Well fuck me sideways, he was quite the looker, wasn’t he,” Niall blurts out, nudging Liam with a wink. Liam feels his cheeks heat up, praying that he wasn’t as transparent as he felt.

“Next,” James hollers without commenting, though there’s a small look of admiration in his eye as he finishes up his note sheet.

“That was the last of them,” the assistant calls from behind the wall, cutting the music off.

“Any objections to 36, lads?” Sharon questions as she reaches for the master list.

“Seemed a bit scrawny and on the short side. Plus his walk wasn’t as refined as I would like,” Ben mutters, scowling into his undoubtedly cold coffee.

James bristles, as he tends to do just before he disagrees with someone. “Oi, the walk was fine you twit. And the show is still a months out. Just because he’s more beautiful than you could ever hope to b-“ “Ahem,” Sharon clears her throat pointedly, interrupting their bickering.

“It’s like working with a bunch of eight year olds around here,” she mutters. “Niall, you’re the designer. Do you have clothes that will fit him?”

Liam whips his head around to look at Niall on his left, silently pleading with him.

“For a face like that? Course. Bloody hell, I’d make something new for that bloke. Bet he’ll have all the lads and lasses swooning with one of those smolders in the photoshoot” Niall chortles, tipping his chair back in a stretch. “What do you think Li? Model material?” he teases.

Liam briefly considers strangling Niall for taking the piss but the thought of jail brings him back to the question. He hesitates, picking his words carefully. “He’s got potential for sure. Bit rough around the edges but nothing that can’t be adjusted.”

“So it’s settled,” Sharon states as she marks off their final choice on list. “Who wants to do the honors then?” she asks, waving the paper towards the rest of the panel to her left.

All eyes turn to Liam, and he groans, accepting the list with a pout. He scans over their choices- 8 males and 1 female, (because the women were selected yesterday and today was just for those who needed to be reviewed again). Nine numbers, nine _people_ he is going to make very happy, and 25 that he’ll send home disappointed.

Oh, and one of those nine numbers is a boy that took Liam’s breath away during a cheesy audition. Lord knows what he’ll do to Liam if they actually interact. Just fabulous.

He stalks towards the back of the runway towards the door where the hopeful models were asked to wait. This is gonna suck, he thinks. Fucking Harry.

 

***

 

Zayn just wants to go home. He’s glad that most of his waiting happened before the audition because now he feels like he’s gonna crawl out of his skin.

And all the small groups of models that stop talking to stare at him when he enters the holding room probably didn’t help. Apparently cliques exist all throughout life, he thinks.

It’s one thing to be a loner in a place where he’s comfortable, though, and a completely different thing to be alone where he is so out of his depth. At least there’s no way he’ll be chosen. Small mercies, he thinks, as he settles himself in a corner.

He closes his eyes and exhales, as the past 30 minutes replay in his head. As far as bad life decisions go, sticking around for the actual audition is up there with one of his worst.

The lady behind the scenes who ushered him to change into the standard black boxers that all the models apparently wore did nothing to calm his nerves; she smelled of hairspray and peppermints, and was clearly unimpressed with Zayn’s nerves, not that he blamed her.

Zayn doesn’t consider himself overly self-conscious, but the utter humiliation he felt strutting around in next to nothing for a bunch of strangers has made him reconsider all of his current life choices.

Starting off he instantly doubted his ability to walk in straight line, which was exactly the opposite of what he needed to do. He was too embarrassed to even give the judges a proper look, which is probably for the best, but still. They probably aren’t looking for Bambi’s human cousin to stumble around on their runway.

The memory makes Zayn’s cheeks burn red, and he lifts an awkward hand to scrub at the back of his neck, hoping that no one is looking at him. It’s not like he even wanted to do well, but the knowledge that he could do better nags at the back of his mind.

‘Let me wallow in my self-pity in peace, please’ he thinks as he curls in on himself.

His pity party is rudely interrupted however, as the door in the corner opposite him bangs open unceremoniously. Zayn jumps a bit, as does a majority of the room, most of which then turn to glare at the offending person.

A person that just so happens to resemble a modern day Adonis in a jumper and tight fitting jeans. Oh boy (or should he say, Oh Man). It’s hard to get a good look at him through the crowd, but he catches a glimpse of candy pink lips, wavy brown hair and bulging biceps.

Zayn automatically sits up straighter, his attention fully on this newcomer. He oozes confidence, charm, and class, despite the dim lighting and grimy concrete walls.

“Hello, everybody,” the man begins, fully capturing the room with his presence, and fuck, even his voice is sexy Zayn thinks to himself.

“First off, I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to come out and audition today. We had to make some tough decisions, but I want to encourage you all to keep pursuing your dreams,” the Adonis continues. “Hard work and perseverance will pay off if you keep at it.” He punctuates his mini speech by flashing a beautiful smile that even Zayn can see from across the room. Cue the internal swooning.

“Anyways, if these numbers could gather over here to my right,” he plows on while gesturing to an empty corner of the room. “2, 7, 11, 14, 20, 22, 29, 32, and 36.”

Zayn’s heart drops out onto the floor in shock, as the rest of the room erupts into muted chaos.

Zayn stares off into space, his mind reeling, because there’s no way that he heard correctly. ‘What. The. Fuck. What the fuck. It has to be some kind of twisted practical joke.’ He thinks to himself desperately, but Louis doesn’t pop out laughing from behind the stranger with the clipboard, who is apparently still talking.

“Everyone else, I apologize. Thank you again for your time, and Marvin will be in to escort you out in just a minute,” and Zayn notes that he doesn’t look like he’s joking at all. In fact, he looks slightly uncomfortable.

Zayn watches numbly at first as other people gather their belongings and rise to join the man at the front of the room, before he scrambles to stand and do the same, weaving his way through numerous unhappy faces.

He’s hit with a pang of guilt then, because this is just a bet to him, but it may very well be their livelihood. He seriously considers asking the man to choose someone else, but before he can even move, a huge man who must be Marvin opens the door that was near Zayn’s original corner, and begins to usher the rest of the people out.

‘So much for that brilliant plan’ he thinks to himself. Louis is so gonna die when he gets home.

“Alright, let’s head back to the runway to go over the contract and some quick ground rules then,” the first man, who is even more stunning up close, throws over his shoulder as he yanks open the door and holds it.

He’s all broad shoulders and defined muscles, with sculpted facial features and the softest hair Zayn has ever seen, and a splash of a caramel birthmark on his neck that Zayn would love to sink his teeth into. His lips are pink and swollen, as though he’s just been kissed roughly, or he spent all day chewing on them.

But his most captivating of all is his eyes. They’re brown with flecks of gold that Zayn can see despite the awful lighting, and they radiate a warmth that he didn’t know was possible. Laugh lines delicately mark the corners, and pair nicely with the spark that seems to be hovering in his gaze.

He quirks an eyebrow at Zayn with a soft smirk, and Zayn ducks his head bashfully as he shuffles forwards through the open door, bringing up the rear of the group.

He hears the door swing shut with a thud, and the man’s presence behind him is almost overwhelming until he falls into step beside Zayn with an easy smile.

“Nervous?” he questions, but not in a way that is mocking in the slightest, which makes Zayn feel better and worse all at once. He wants to smack himself for being such an open book when he normally has a handle on his emotions.

“Just a bit,” he mumbles, before admitting, “It’s my first time modeling.” He flushes a bit then, because wow, way to make yourself look pathetic Zayn.

“Really?” the man intones, and Zayn glances at him only to see that he seems genuinely interested. “I really couldn’t tell mate. You must be a natural.”

Zayn snorts before he can help it, a hand flying up to cover his mouth in embarrassment. The man laughs, but not _at_ Zayn, just chuckling lowly in amusement.

“Well, whether you believe it or not, you’ve got something special man. But don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it,” he offers with a kind smile, before turning his attention to the runway in front of them.

Zayn tries to work up the nerve to ask his name, but before he can, the man falls out of step to join another man and a woman standing by the table at the end of the runway, while Zayn follows the rest of the group as they line up.

The woman turns to them, clasping her hands together before she speaks. “Welcome and congratulations to you all. You are here because our panel of judges saw unique potential in each and every one of you, and for that you should be proud.”

She pauses to cast her stern gaze across them all before continuing. “My name is Sharon Armani. Giorgio Armani is my grandfather, and as you know, he founded the Armani brand over 40 years ago. Your most important task from now on is to uphold his integrity as you represent his brand.”

Her eyes sweep over their faces, and Zayn nods in understanding as she continues, “For this line, you will be working most closely with Niall Horan, who designed a majority of this collection,” and she gestures to the man he doesn’t know, “and Liam Payne, an accomplished model and personal favorite of my grandfather. You may direct questions and concerns to them. Good luck.”

She sweeps out of the room with a flourish, leaving only the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume in her wake.

He turns his attention back to Niall and Liam (mostly Liam if he’s being honest), who are far less intimating.

“Well now that _that’s_ over,” Niall laughs as he rolls his eyes, causing the group to break out in nervous laughter. “As she said, my name is Niall and I’m the designer. I’ll be needing to meet with you all a few times in the next couple weeks for fittings prior to the photoshoot. Should only need minor adjustments but you never know,” he shrugs with a wink.

“And I’m Liam,” the other man, _Liam_ , starts with an adorably awkward wave. “I’ll be joining you guys in the photoshoot along with a couple other veteran models, and I’ll be available for some sessions to correct small issues we found in your auditions.”

Zayn flushes even though Liam didn’t name anyone, because his walk was a mess and he knows it, which means _Liam_ knows it. ‘Way to embarrass yourself in front of the hottest man alive’ he thinks to himself as his ears begin to burn.

Niall begins to speak again, knocking Zayn from his thoughts. “Just to get acquainted and to put things together for us, could you all please state your name and age?” He picks up a clipboard and clicks his pen, while Liam does the same.

Niall nods to the boy at the other end of the line, and Zayn listens as they go down the line.

“Anton, 22.” “Jem, 23.” “Kyle, 20.” and on it goes until they reach him. “Zayn, 21.” He mumbles out with his eyes on the floor.

“Excellent. Well, I have all your contact info and I’ll be in touch to set up fittings. Other than that, Angela has standard contracts for you to sign that I suggest you look over real quick and then you are free to go,” Niall finishes with a grin, his blue eyes shining.

A woman who must be Angela emerges from behind them with a thick stack of papers which she distributes gracefully before disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Zayn glances down at the contract, and, not for the first time, wonders just what Louis has gotten him into. He thumbs through it, noting the promise of a hefty paycheck at the end.

He looks around for a pen briefly, before digging in his own pockets for a pen that he knows isn’t there. A shadow falls in front of him, causing him to look up.

Liam stands in front of him, a pen in his outstretched hand with the other tucked into his pocket, a sheepish look on his face. “Zayn, was it?” he asks, and if Zayn didn’t know better, he’d say that Liam is nervous. ‘As if he has any reason to be nervous with a face like that’, Zayn thinks.

He nods a bit awkwardly, muttering his thanks and accepting the pen, but Liam doesn’t seem to notice as his face lights up. “Great! I’m Liam!” he exclaims, before faltering a bit and rubbing the back of his neck to mutter “which you definitely already knew.”

Zayn giggles softly, and revels in the mutual apprehension between them. “It’s very nice to meet you, Leeyum,” he says, letting his tongue stretch around the syllables in his name, glancing up at Liam from under his eyelashes for an instant. He uncaps the pen and leans over the table next to him to sign the contract, before leaving it there, and turning back to offer a hand to Liam.

Liam’s cheeks turn a soft pink and he blinks rapidly before grabbing Zayn’s hand firmly and shaking it for a bit longer than necessary without breaking eye contact. Neither of them seem to mind.

Liam’s hands are large and soft, pleasantly warm where Zayn’s own are cool to the touch. Zayn wouldn’t be opposed to finding out what those hands would feel like on _other_ parts of him, and he gets the feeling that Liam feels the same, but that doesn’t seem entire appropriate at the moment.

Liam sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, but it pops out suddenly as he unceremoniously blurts out “Could I have your number?”

To Zayn’s fascination, Liam’s cheeks flush even darker, and he instantly begins to babble “I mean, like, well you said you didn’t know, and um, I was just, well like, I know how to walk and stuff, and I was thinking,” before Zayn cuts him off with a gentle “Liam.”

Liam’s mouth snaps shut and Zayn grins at him.

“Of course you can have my number, you donut,” he teases, and Liam’s eyes crinkle up at him, which should _not_ make Zayn want to pinch his cheeks, but it does. “And I’d appreciate any help you can give me as I feel a bit hopeless at this to be honest.”

Liam nods enthusiastically. “You really were terrific!” and he goes to gesture with his hands, before realizing that he’s still got one attached to Zayn. They detach, albeit a bit reluctantly to pull out their phones, as Liam assures, “it won’t take much to get you up to speed, promise!”

They both exchange phones to punch in their contact info.

“Do you live nearby?” Liam asks as they switch back and pocket their phones before shuffling towards the exit, and Zayn drops his signed contract on the pile near the door.

“Not really, my friend is supposed to be waiting outside to give me a ride but he’s always late so who knows,” Zayn confides with a chuckle. “What about you?”

“Ah, nope, I have an apartment over in West Brompton so I drove myself.” Liam shares with a modest shrug, pulling open the door for Zayn, as if he doesn’t live in one of the richest areas of London. Bloody hell.

Zayn tries to withhold his gaping as he strides forward before pulling up to wait for Liam. They knock shoulders as they fall into step, entering the holding room and continuing towards the exit. Once again, Liam opens the door, one hand falling to Zayn’s waist to guide him as he blushes and stutters out his thanks.

Liam’s hand stays pressed to his lower back as they emerge onto the sidewalk at back of the warehouse, burning through Zayn’s jumper in a way that send fire down his spine to pool at his tailbone.

‘If this keeps up, my cheeks will be permanently pink’ he thinks, groaning internally.

“So if this is your first time modeling, what else do you do?” Liam asks politely, a steady presence at his side.

“I’m actually in university, studying literature,” he replies, and if leans slightly into Liam as they round the corner, no one has to know.

“Oh wow, so you’re proper smart then. I’ve never been the best with words meself,” Liam says with a shrug as they reach the main street.

“I’m just interested in different ways to communicate honestly,” Zayn admits. “It’s interesting to see how generations evolved their language and picked up different terminology along the way. Plus, ‘m a bit of nerd.”

Liam smiles down at him softly, catching his arm to pull them to a stop. “You are fascinating to me, nerd or not,” he assures, long fingers catching under his chin to drag through his scruff.

Zayn tries not to blush (and fails miserably because this boy is pressing all of his buttons), but before he can respond, a horn blares loudly as a car whips up to idle at the curb next to them, and they startle apart.

Louis rolls down the window, Aviators firmly in place as he cocks an eyebrow. “Well hello there. What do we have here,” he teases before wiggling his eyebrows, and Zayn is back to wanting to die.

“Fuck off Lou,” he hisses, before turning back to Liam with a pout. “Sorry. This asshole is Louis, me best mate. And he’s not gonna leave so,” Zayn shuffles in place awkwardly, “I guess I should be going.”

Liam doesn’t look annoyed at least, in fact he looks rather amused. “No worries, I understand,” he assures Zayn with a giant smile “my best friend is overbearing and hell-bent on embarrassing me at all times too.”

Zayn grins back, slightly unsure of what to do. A kiss is definitely too forward (but sue Zayn for wanting to anyways) and a handshake is way too formal. Before he can get too worked up, Liam catches his wrist and drags him in for a warm hug.

Zayn tucks his face into Liam’s broad chest as Liam ducks down to hook his nose over Zayn’s shoulder, his mouth pressed hotly to Zayn’s collarbone. And wow, Zayn has decided that his new permanent residence will be between Liam Payne’s strong arms, cuddled close to his chest, because damn if it isn’t the best hug he’s ever had in his life.

Liam must be a miracle worker as well, because Louis wolf whistling from the car only annoys him a little.

And now Zayn wants to murder Louis for an entirely different reason. Fucking Louis.

 

***

 

Liam isn’t sure exactly what it is about Zayn, but the boy is driving him wild.

After their initial conversation that was so rudely interrupted by Zayn’s friend, they began to text almost constantly. Liam feels like he’s 17 with a crush again to be honest.

Zayn is an intoxicating combination of shy and confident, which makes every conversation an adventure. He’s private about the strangest details like his favorite movie (which must be _really_ embarrassing, because it took Zayn hours to respond with an unconvincing ‘I don’t know’) and forthcoming about others, like his sex life (he’s into men, and is _very_ versatile, which is a detail that Liam’s poor heart did not need to know).

It’s only been a couple weeks, but Liam feels as though he’s known Zayn for a lot longer. Three days after the audition, Liam asked Zayn on coffee date and he immediately agreed much to Liam’s delight.

The day wound up being uncharacteristically hot, and it sent Liam digging through his summer clothes for something suitable. Liam spent an embarrassingly long amount of time choosing his wardrobe before settling on his favorite worn Batman tee and a pair of dark jeans, and it felt like fate when Zayn turned up in a Green Lantern tee and a pair of skinnies.

They talked about everything from family to dreams to comic books over their teas, conversation flowing so easily that neither noticed the hours passing until the sun began to set.

Neither of them wanted to leave, both saying as much, but Zayn finally admitted that he had coursework to finish for the next day. Liam walked Zayn back to his apartment, their fingers brushing with every step but both of them too shy to make a move.

When they reached his apartment, Zayn stepped in for a hug, his slender arms around Liam’s waist as Liam wrapped his broader arms around Zayn’s shoulders. They stayed pressed together for a bit, swaying slightly as Liam tucked his nose into Zayn’s neck to breathe him in.

He loves the feeling of Zayn in his arms, the way they just seemed to _fit_ like he hasn’t with anyone else.

A week after their coffee date, he wakes up to a text from Zayn inviting him to see Captain America: Civil War later in the week. With a grin, he shoots off an affirmation, before suggesting that they meet up soon to work on Zayn’s walk.

Zayn had admitted to Liam that he only auditioned because Louis dared him to, and he didn’t know the first thing about modeling, so Liam knows there’s work to be done before the photoshoot in four weeks.

It definitely will help that Zayn is ridiculously (unbelievably) photogenic, as evidenced by the small collection of selfies and a couple pictures from their coffee date that Liam has saved in his phone.

Zayn texts back that he’s free later in the afternoon if Liam is interested (and let’s be honest, Liam will probably always be interested when it comes to Zayn), and so they plan to meet up at Liam’s apartment because it’s bigger than Zayn’s.

Liam spends the rest of the morning alternating between obsessively cleaning every surface of his apartment and telling himself not to worry. He considers popping to the shop to pick up some groceries to make dinner, before deciding that takeaway would definitely be safer all around. No sense in poisoning Zayn by trying to impress him.

Time flies, and before Liam knows it, he’s jogging down the stairs to meet Zayn at the entrance of his apartment. As he reaches the landing, Liam realizes that he never changed out of his loose joggers and t-shirt.

“So much for impressing him,” Liam mutters to himself, pushing open the door and striding forward into the extravagant lobby.

Zayn is standing off to the side near the door, his head bowed and hands in the pockets of his tight jeans as he studies the floor, his shoes, a bug crawling by, _anything_ to avoid eye contact with the doorman probably.

Liam walks up to Zayn slowly, watching as his head pops up and the unsure look on his face is wiped away and replaced with a soft smile, just for Liam.

“Hey babe,” Liam rasps, his throat suddenly tight from the overwhelming fondness he feels for this boy, which is _ridiculous_ because it’s only been a couple weeks, and this never happens to Liam. He never loses himself in another person so quickly, so recklessly.

Or at least he never did before.

Without even thinking, Liam reaches out for Zayn, hand settling on his hip to drag him in closer (but a voice in his head whispers ‘still not close enough). Zayn’s lips quirk up even higher as he whispers out a “hey”, his cheeks dusting pink but his eyes are still wide and screaming ‘uncomfortable’.

Liam tucks him into his side and guides Zayn swiftly to the elevator, hand sweeping over his broad shoulders and down his side to his narrow waist.

Zayn leans into Liam even further, and Liam relishes the contact until the doors slide open and they shuffle forwards together, Liam reaching his free arm out to punch in his code. Zayn is silent the whole ride up to Liam’s apartment, but it’s not uncomfortable.

As he shuts the door behind them, Liam watches in fascination as the tension bleeds out of Zayn’s shoulders as he takes in Liam’s home, his eyes flying from the staircase that leads to his bedroom to the open kitchen and living room before landing on the floor to ceiling windows that comprise the outer wall.

“Not too shabby, Payne,” Zayn teases, glancing over his shoulder to grin mischievously at Liam as he toes off his boots.

“You like it?” Liam asks, kicking off his shoes and padding his way into the living room, dragging Zayn behind him with gentle fingers around his wrist.

They collapse on the couch pressed together, side by side, Zayn still taking in the apartment.

“Might need a tour later, I reckon,” he mumbles, curling into Liam and pressing a grin to his collarbone. Liam wraps an arm around his shoulders and chuckles out “I’ll see what I can do.”

They stay like that for what could be minutes or hours, whispering about family and school and dreams and secrets until Liam’s stomach rumbles loud enough to startle them both.

“Dinner?” he asks sheepishly, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“I could go for a curry?” Zayn suggests, and Liam agrees, letting Zayn use his phone to call Liam’s favorite takeaway shop and order enough for both of them.

They fall into a comfortable silence while they wait, Zayn reaching out to play with Liam’s fingers, running his fingertips over Liam’s knuckles and tracing the lines of his palm, until he suddenly asks, “How’d you get into modeling?”

Liam stills, not because it’s a bad question, but because he hasn’t been asked that in ages. Not since the beginning of his last relationship to be exact, and that. That terrifies and excites him equally.

“It’s not very exciting,” Liam mumbles, pinching his fingers shut around Zayn’s and tugging slightly to get him to flip his hand over. He focuses on watching his own fingers as they trace the ink on Zayn’s hand as he responds,

“I was never too good in school. I mean, I got decent grades but I had to really work for them. But ‘ve always liked being in shape, feeling fit, you know? Had a bloke come up to me on the street when I was 18 and in town for a concert and he said he could get me into the business, said I could make lots of money if I was willing to work hard and stay in shape.”

Liam laughs wryly, “me mum thought I was absolutely mental, thought for sure I’d be kidnapped. And me sister mocked me for weeks, saying I was signing up for a porno. But me dad supported me, said if it would make me happy I should try.

So I called the man and asked what I had to do, and he put me in touch with his business partner. Of course, at the time he didn’t tell me that his business partner was his son and that I was his first ever client, but in the end those were just details.”

“You remember when I told you about Harry?” Liam questions, and Zayn nods. “He’s the son. We’ve been through quite a bit together, got quite lucky landing a deal with Armani a few years ago and it’s all taken off from there,” he finishes.

Zayn sits quietly, studying Liam’s face with a thoughtful expression, before deadpanning “you’re right, that is quite boring,” and Liam catches his wrists to pin him to the couch before reaching down to trail his fingers across a flat stomach and delicate ribs, Zayn gasping sweetly and fumbling to push Liam off.

“Stop it you oaf,” Zayn insists, his eyes slits as he giggles, and Liam is laughing too, his heart beating wildly because he has this beautiful boy all to himself.

Zayn goes still and moans in pain suddenly, his eyes clamped shut, and Liam startles, retracting his hands to ask what’s wrong, but before he can get the words out Zayn is smirking and bucking his hips up to launch Liam off of his lap, tumbling to the floor.

He rolls over the back of the couch, hurrying to get away as Liam looks on in disbelief from his spot on the floor. “You little shit, get back here” he splutters, scrambling to his feet to chase Zayn into the kitchen, his heart singing because this boy already feels like home.

 

***

 

And if they wind up eating dinner with their feet tangled underneath the table, Drake playing softly in the background, their free hands tapping out promises of more into each other’s fingers, arms, thighs, no one has to know.

And if they fall asleep together on the couch watching the Avengers later, Zayn resting firmly on Liam’s chest, his face tucked into Liam’s neck as he snuffles softly and Liam tightens his arm to pull him even closer, no one has to know.

And if Liam wakes up at 3:30 with a crick in his neck and carries Zayn upstairs to his perfectly good bed, pulling off his jeans and slipping Zayn into one of Liam’s old shirts as he grumbles before tucking him under the covers and curling around him to coax him back to sleep, no one ever has to know.

 

***

 

Zayn really likes Niall.

He likes the way Niall explains what he’s doing: measuring and pinning and adjusting the two outfits Zayn’s been selected to wear with nimble fingers and steady hands.

He likes the way that Niall stops to throw his head back and laugh whenever Zayn can fit a quip into the constant chatter, and the way that Niall repeats it to himself before getting back to his task

But most of all, he like the way that Niall is always up good time after work, which is how Zayn finds himself at Niall’s flat, rapidly approaching a not-entirely-sober state.

“Ya know,” Niall drawls, pausing to slurp up a noodle from the takeaway they grabbed on the way. “Liam seems proper into you, mate.”

And Zayn chokes on the bite of rice he was chewing, because, out of all things he expected to come out of Niall’s mouth, that wasn’t one of them, and it makes his heart pound in his chest.

“What do you mean?” Zayn rasps out, his eyes fixed on the TV because suddenly the match seems a lot more interesting.

Niall watches him with an amused grin before shrugging casually and shoveling in another bite.

For a minute Zayn thinks that Niall might just let it drop, but just as his heart begins to slow, Niall asks “Is it true you spent the night at his last week?” in a smug voice that makes Zayn want to melt.

His cheeks burn red, scenes from their sort-of-date flashing in his brain unprompted:

Liam giggling and teasing and pinning Zayn down on the couch to _tickle_ him, when they both wanted to be in that position under different circumstances.

Liam demonstrating a proper model walk, strutting across the lobby when they went down to pick up their takeaway with a cocksure smirk and alluring sway to his hips.

Liam feeding him bits of spicy chicken and swallowing down gulps of water when the spices got too strong for him, cheeks red and eyes watery, rubbing his toes up Zayn’s calf and looking like an angel nonetheless.

Liam holding him tight to his chest, first on the couch to the tune of the Avengers in the background, and then later in bed, snuffling into the nape of Zayn’s neck and pressing soft lips to his fantail in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Mate what the hell, are you seriously having a wet dream about him on my couch?” Niall deadpans with a twinkle in his eye, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder playfully before snagging a scoop of rice from his plate.

And Zayn wishes he could just melt into the couch, because he _hadn’t_ been thinking anything remotely sexual but judging by Niall’s reaction, his face said otherwise, which is almost worse.

“He’s just a good mate,” Zayn mumbles, staring at the plate in his lap as his cheeks go pink. “We get on quite well, but nothing has happened or anything.”

Niall scoffs, “course not, that’s because Liam is a proper gentleman. He’s not gonna push you into something you don’t want, he’ll just die of blue balls instead. But he proper fancies you, swear he told me himself a couple days ago.”

“We had a fitting and it was all ‘Zayn said this’ and ‘Zayn did this when we hung out’ and ‘Zayn sent me this, isn’t he amazing’ and I swear my teeth were rotten by the end from all his fluff. He’s arse over tits for ya.”

And yeah, you could safely say that Zayn is a bit enamored with Mr. Payne, but hearing the opposite is true as well, and from one of Liam’s close friends no less, makes Zayn’s heart sing.

He’s quiet for a bit, mind running a mile a minute, because Liam _likes_ him and while he already sort of knew that, it makes the world feel brighter somehow. And then he gets an idea.

“Hey Niall?” he asks, and Niall hums in response as he chews, eyes sliding from the TV to Zayn. “You remember that set of outfits you showed me at your studio and said you couldn’t use yet?” and Niall lights up in a wicked way at Zayn’s words, understanding in his eyes.

“Oh you sly dog, you wanna wear those outfits for the show!” Niall laughs, “That’s proper couple stuff mate. Exactly the kind of thing to make Liam swoon over ya too. Good on you,” and Zayn feels his flush rise, satisfaction settling in his bones.

He may not technically be a model yet, but at least he’ll make this shoot with Liam special, for both of them.

 

***

 

Liam suggests they meet up to practice a week before the shoot and a month before the actual show. With Zayn’s natural looks, he doesn’t think it will take long to teach him how to pose, but Liam will use any excuse to get Zayn into his flat again, so here they are.

“So basically, the photographer will do most of the work for us in the photoshoot with positioning and stuff. We just have to follow instructions and match facial expressions. Honestly the hardest part half the time is trying not to laugh,” Liam explains as Zayn nods along, looking a bit uneasy. They are sat facing each other at opposite ends of the couch, their legs tangled together.

“What kind of instructions though?” he asks, rubbing his hands on his thighs and betraying his nerves.

“Depends on the director,” Liam admits. “Some are quirky and use scenery to try and put you in the right mindset, and some just tell you to look thoughtful.”

Liam eases a hand around Zayn’s ankle, brush his thumb along the delicate bones to sooth the pinched looked on Zayn’s face.

“Wanna practice?” Liam offers gently, and Zayn shoots him a grateful smile and a nod.

“Okay, look broody,” he commands, and Zayn lets his face rest completely, his lips puckering slightly and his eyes dimming to make him look bored.

“Perfect!!” Liam cheers, waving a fist in a dorky way to celebrate and make Zayn smile.

“Now,” Liam clears his throat, before adopting a cheesy French accent, “I want you to picture the rolling hillside. See the birds as they flit,” and he gestures with sweeping arm movements, “see the butterflies, feel the sun on your precious face, smell the beautiful flowers.”

Liam pauses to examine Zayn, who looks amused but also slightly concerned, perhaps for Liam’s mental health. “Why are you not _smelling_?” he insists, thickening his accent and sniffing exaggeratedly until Zayn does the same.

“Yesss,” he hisses. “Now take that feeling and bottle it up and then squirt it onto your face. I want to see the flowers and the birds and the butterflies,” he insists, and Zayn’s face melts into something peaceful, but also wistful, and Liam’s breath catches and he loses character at the sight for just a split second.

“More butterflies, less flowers,” he commands, and Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him before laughing out, “What does that even mean?”

Liam shrugs and answers, “Honestly I have no clue. I’ve had crazy directors say stuff like that to me before and I still don’t know what they were trying to get me to do.”

“Never hurts to be prepared I guess,” Zayn offers with a soft smile, tucking his foot under Liam’s leg and flexing his toes.

They run through a few more practices scenarios, some normal and somewhere Liam puts on another outlandish accent and Zayn has to work to not only make the proper expression but to keep from bursting out into giggles as well.

“We should probably work on your walk too babe,” Liam says after they’ve fallen into a comfortable silence, and Zayn groans in protest as Liam climbs to his feet.

“But ‘m tired and my feet are cold,” he mumbles, still letting Liam tug him up regardless.

“It’ll be quick and then we can find _some_ way to warm you up,” Liam promises, before flushing because whoops, that sounded quite inappropriate, and he starts babbling before he can stop himself because that’s not what he _meant_ , and now Zayn is laughing and Liam wants to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment.

Zayn’s hand eases onto Liam’s hip, squeezing gently. “ ‘m not exactly a blushing virgin Li, and I’m not at all opposed to any way you want to warm me up,” he murmurs, and that. That makes Liam want to skip the practice and drag Zayn upstairs to his bed.

With great restraint (or stupidity) however, he just laughs awkwardly and chokes out “good to know”, before twisting out of Zayn’s grasp to move the coffee table out of their way.

“Okay, well,” he starts, flustered by Zayn’s intense gaze and Liam blushes a deep red, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. “Um, on the runway, the most important thing to remember is to be confident. You are there for the clothes, so let them dictate your attitude. Ninety percent of your walk will be based on the mental aspect.”

“If you feel good about your outfit, you’d want to show it off right?” he asks, and Zayn nods along, biting his lower lip and dragging Liam’s eyes to his pink, pink mouth. Talk about a distraction, Liam thinks, eyes snapping off to look out the window before he continues.  

“So, um, one thing I noticed during your audition is that you naturally have this air of separation and detachment from your audience, which is actually difficult to achieve so that’s great. You need to show the audience that your outfit is attractive and that you are above them because you are wearing it and they aren’t.”

Liam pauses, letting Zayn absorb, before moving on. “When it comes to your actual walk, I think it would help you to move your hips a bit more. Don’t pop them necessarily, just work them a bit.” Liam instructs, and then saunters across the room with semi-exaggerated hip movements to make his point.

“Okay, so I need to be confident, cocky but not an asshole, and pretend I’m better because of my clothes, and I need to pop my hips slightly,” Zayn reiterates, and when Liam nods, Zayn strides forward, swaying his hips a little with a small smirk on his face.

“Good!” Liam exclaims, his heart swelling with pride. “And you know what to do at the end of the walk, yeah?”

Zayn nods, backing up a bit and striding back towards Liam before pausing, popping his right hip out with a hands on his hips, before shifting to the left, and then spinning fluidly to retrace his steps.

“That was perfect babe,” Liam gushes, closing the gap between them and Zayn’s cheeks turn pink as Liam catches his fingers under his chin to rub at his beard softly.

“I may have practiced at home a bit first, to impress you” Zayn mumbles, his eyes focused over Liam’s shoulder, and that goes straight to Liam’s heart and cock simultaneously.

“Consider me thoroughly impressed,” he murmurs, stepping further into Zayn’s space. He looks up at Liam through his lashes and Liam is so gone for this boy, he thinks, as he leans down to cover Zayn’s lips with his own.

They don’t get a lot of practicing done after that, but neither of them seem to mind.

 

***

 

Zayn is just finishing his final paper for one of his classes when he gets an email from Sharon saying that he has to come in to the studio just briefly that afternoon for a practice shoot with all the other new models, a few days before the real shoot.

His first instinct is to move to the Antarctic and live with penguins, and his second is to call Liam. He answers on the first ring with a “Hey babe what’s up?” to which Zayn promptly relays his plans to move way south until further notice.

“Zee, what are you on about? What’s got you all worked up?” Liam’s voice sounds concerned, and Zayn imagines his eyebrows are probably furrowed in that adorable focused look he gets when faced with a problem.

“Got an email about a practice shoot today and I guess I’m bricking it a bit,” Zayn admits softly. “Thought I’d have a bit more time to prepare meself.”

“Zayn you’ll be great,” Liam reassures in a soothing tone, like Zayn will hang up if he isn’t gentle enough. “I had Harry call, and the director is a guy I’ve worked with in the past. Super nice and straightforward. Just do your best and they’ll love you, promise.”

Zayn takes a deep breath and lets the words sink in as he listens to Liam’s steady breathing on the other end of the line.

He knows he’s being a bit irrational. They’ve been practicing expressions for a couple weeks now, and Zayn feels like he can do the walk in his sleep, so there’s no real reason to feel this panicked, other than the fact that he won’t have Liam’s steady presence beside him like he imagined.

Zayn takes another deep breath and blows in out before admitting softly, “ ‘m not sure if I’m more worried about the shoot or the fact that you won’t be there with me,” and Liam stops breathing for a few seconds as he processes.

“I can still come if you want babe. Just say the word and I’ll show up. Pull supervisor strings and say I need to see my work in action or someat,” and as tempting as that is, Zayn doesn’t want to put Liam out for his own silly insecurities.

‘It’s a one-time thing,’ he thinks to himself. ‘Just suck it up and do it’.

“Nah I’ll be alright Li. Just needed to talk it out I think.”

Liam hums, unconvinced probably, but Zayn doesn’t think much of it as Liam steers the conversation in a different direction.

They start talking about their day before discussing various upcoming plans. Liam mentions that his sister is popping around for tea at some point and invites Zayn to come, and Zayn shyly mentions that his family will be coming down for his graduation later that month and that he’s excited to see them because it’s been ages.

When they say goodbye nearly an hour later so Zayn has time to make it to the studio, he feels calm and so, so grateful for this incredible boy that waltzed into his life in the last place that Zayn would’ve expected.

 

***

 

And when Liam turns up outside the studio, waiting for Zayn with a tea and a warm, comforting hug, pressing words of encouragement into his hair before giving Zayn a soft kiss and sending him inside, Zayn’s heart feels so full that he’s worried he may not be able to stop smiling for the shoot.

And when Liam picks him up and takes him out for dinner afterwards to celebrate, singing along to cheesy 90’s music to make Zayn laugh on the way back to Liam’s apartment, Zayn can see a future, a home, with this beautiful, strange, perfect boy.

 

***

 

The day of the actual photoshoot is a lot more hectic than the practice was, but Zayn is at peace for the most part. He watches as Liam goes through makeup beside him, both of them commenting occasionally on things that catch their eye or pop into their heads.

He slips into his first outfit, a white shirt that Niall comes around to unbutton halfway, tucked into narrow fitting black trousers that seem to shimmer and shiny black Oxfords. The waistband of his trousers is white with black lacing that accentuates his narrow waist.

Liam whistles lowly, stalking over before circling Zayn with admiration painted on his face. “You look incredible Zee,” he murmurs, awe filling his voice.

“You’re one to talk,” Zayn shoots back, taking in Liam’s stunning, all black ensemble. His suit is slim fitting, accented with a silky skinny tie and satin black dress shirt along with his own pair of shiny Oxfords, and maybe Zayn could get used to modeling if it meant seeing Liam all dressed up all the time.

“So how does this work again?” Zayn asks to distract himself from the thoughts of what he wants to do to Liam later.

Liam stares at him for a moment like he can see straight into Zayn’s brain, which may mean that Zayn’s thoughts were a bit too loud and they translated to his face for a moment but sue him, Liam is beautiful.

“Well first we’ll all take some group pictures with different positions and themes, and then they’ll start the individual shots so people can change in between. They’ll do the individual shots for the second outfit too, and then we’ll finish up with the last group shots. Should be pretty chill,” Liam explains in a gentle voice, his fingers tracing the laces on Zayn’s waistband until Niall comes by to shoo him away and adjust Zayn.

“Told ya, head over heels mate” he whispers with a wink before gliding on to the next model, leaving Zayn to splutter to himself. He glances at Liam to find him already looking back, and Zayn feels his cheeks go pink at the intense attention.

“Everyone to the main studio please!!! It is time!” the main director, a stocky man named Charlie, with strong arms and kind eyes, calls out to the room at large.

Zayn looks back to find Liam, only to feel the gentle press of a familiar hand on his lower back, ready to guide him forward.

“Ready for this babe?” Liam asks softly, thumb tracing back and forth in reassurance.

Zayn smirks, letting confidence flow through his veins. “I was born ready,” he teases, even though they both know it’s far from the truth.

Liam hums in agreement regardless and ushers them forwards. Show time.

 

***

 

Honestly the entirety of the shoot is a blur for Zayn. The group shoot involves a lot of coordination but between Niall, Charlie, and several assistants, all the models are positioned and posed correctly for five separate shots.

Charlie raves about Zayn’s pout and uninterested look in equal parts, snapping a few pictures and complimenting him on his broodiness before dismissing Zayn in favor of the next model. Liam has wait for a few more people before it’s his turn, so Zayn decides to head back and change.

His second outfit is a bit more complex. When he finally gets himself assembled with a bit of help from Niall, he is wearing a white shirt with a jet black collar tucked into a slim fitted suit coat with eight buttons down the front. His trousers are slim, clinging to his legs in a way that makes Zayn feel ridiculous, but that Niall promises is stunning. His shoes are an elaborate combination of shiny black and white, and they squeak for the first few steps which amuses him a bit.

“Looking good babe,” Liam calls as he returns from his first individual shot, beaming, and Zayn once again is overcome with emotion for this boy.

He grins shyly and shuffles over to Liam, catching a finger in his waistband to pull him in, and Liam’s hands settle on his waist to keep them close.

They smile at each other like dorks for a minute, and Zayn really hopes no one is watching because they probably look like lovesick fools, but at the same time he couldn’t care less.

“I was thinking,” Zayn murmurs, tucking a finger in between the buttons in Liam’s dress shirt to rub at his bare skin as Liam hums in response.

Zayn catches his lip between his teeth, debating how to word his question before, “You know how I said that me family is coming down for graduation?” and Liam nods, studying Zayn carefully.

“I’d quite like it if I could introduce you to them. Like properly, as my boyfriend,” he admits, and then watches as Liam’s face transforms into pure sunshine and he beams down at Zayn.

“I’d like that quite a bit too babe. Not sure if you’ve noticed but ‘m a bit mad about you,” Liam murmurs. “Me mum has been nagging me for ages to bring you round for Sunday roast but I didn’t want to rush, ya know?”

Zayn nods, because he does know exactly what Liam means. Because he’s thought so many times that telling people may ruin their magic; letting people invade their little bubble may change everything, and Zayn never wants to lose what he’s found with Liam.

At the same time though, he wants to scream his feelings for Liam at the top of his lungs. He wants to claim him for the world to see, wants to be the only one that makes Liam this happy.

“Oi, love birds,” Niall interrupts, not unkindly though and says “Not to be rude but we are on the clock and I need you changed pronto Payno. Zayn your second shot is coming up pretty soon too, better get back out there.

Liam releases Zayn and starts to back away with a soft smile, turning to throw a “Watch how you talk to my boyfriend, Horan,” at Niall before winking at Zayn and scurrying off to change.

Zayn’s heart melts a bit and he lets that goopy feeling in his chest help him through the soft, approachable poses that the director asks him to hold a few minutes later.

 

***

 

Zayn doesn’t see Liam’s second outfit until he joins the rest of the models waiting in the studio for the second group shot.

He’s not sure if it’s the outfit or the fact that this stunning man is his, and only his, but Liam takes his breath away.

He’s dressed in another black button down accented with a floppy bowtie, with form fitting trousers that graze the top of shiny black boots, and a black and white checked pea coat. The whole ensemble makes the brown of his eyes pop, and Zayn may be a bit biased, but he’s pretty sure that Liam is the most beautiful person in the world.

“Almost done now babe,” Liam sing songs once he’s within range, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Zayn’s mouth in greeting.

Zayn smiles brightly, reaching out to lace their fingers together, hoping that his feelings for Liam are translated effectively enough in his actions because his throat is feeling a bit tight from affection, and he doubts he could find the words to do Liam justice regardless.

The second set of group shots goes far more smoothly, and before Zayn knows it, the director is calling a wrap and sending everyone back to change and head home.

And riding home with Liam, their fingers interlocked with the radio playing softly in the background, Zayn thinks that he could get used to any kind of life, even one filled with modeling, as long as Liam is beside him.

Not that he’ll ever admit that to Louis, though, the smug bastard.

 

***

 

As far as runway shows go, Liam thinks that this one is more relaxed than most. There are plenty of models so there’s not a huge rush to change, and the runway isn’t extremely long so there’s less risk of tripping, for Zayn’s sake.

Zayn looks radiant in both of his outfits, Liam thinks.

Niall’s whole theme for this collection was centered on minimalist styles, and he made the daring decision to only use black and white, which is almost unheard of for an entire fashion line.

Liam has heard whispers of critics and other designers already, and it seems that once again Niall has blown the world away. Attention to details and contrasting textures rather than colors has set Armani apart from the rest of the labels, and Liam is proud to be showcasing his mate’s masterpieces.

Liam is the first model in the lineup, followed directly by Zayn, which means they are the first to hit the changing rooms in between outfits. They scramble into their outfits, giggling together at how flustered Niall looks.

“It’s going pretty well, yeah?” Liam asks Zayn softly, and he nods back, a mischievous look in his eye. Niall comes by to finalize their look, and just as Liam is getting ready to head off, Niall catches him off guard by spitting out “Your third outfit is in the far corner, I’ll be there to help you as soon as I can. Pose at the end of the runway,” before dashing off to help another model, leaving Liam speechless.

He turns to Zayn, wondering if he heard the same thing, and is surprised by the guilty look on his boyfriend’s face.

“We may have planned outfits for you and I to finish off the collection?” he admits sheepishly, before hurrying to add, “but Niall confirmed it with Sharon and Mr. Armani himself!”

“Wait, you guys talked to Giorgio about this? Why?” Liam asks, feeling lost and a bit dumb, but then their names are being called by the runway coordinator and they are out of time.

“Shit, I should’ve explained but Niall said we should keep it a surprise, ‘m sorry babe. I’ll tell you when we are changing.” Zayn promises, looking distraught.

“ ‘m not mad babe, just a bit confused,” Liam reassures, stroking his fingers through Zayn’s scruff to settle him. “Show time babe, let’s do this.”

And he heads back out to the runway.

 

***

 

The outfits that Niall made for them are stunning, delicate and perfectly matching each other, and completely a mismatch to the rest of the collection.

“Why the fuck are they blue?” he hisses at Niall, sliding into his black undershirt and trousers before slipping on the blue overcoat and letting Niall arrange the pocket square that is an exact match to Zayn’s top.

“Talked to Giorgio and he said he was interested in starting a line of couples clothing. Ya know, for couples that both wear suits and want to match in unique ways. So I made this design and he loved it but I wasn’t sure if I could make a whole collection so I just put it on hold,” Niall explains, shifting to help Zayn.

“And then good old Zaynie here saw it in me studio and we wound up talking about it later which gave me the idea to make it the center of the collection. Limited edition type stuff so every couple gets the chance to have their special outfits. Giorgio went mad for it, and gave it his full approval after a short meeting with Zayn. He’s out there now introducing you, mate.”

Liam looks at his boyfriend in disbelief, because how did Zayn go from not wanting to model at all to modeling an extra outfit just so he could be with Liam and make him happy?

Zayn is watching him carefully, a remorseful look on his face, like he thinks this whole thing is a mistake, and Liam _needs_ to show him that it wasn’t, so he steps over into Zayn’s space without thinking.

“This is incredible babe, can’t believe you thought of me for this. ‘m so proud of you.” He murmurs, pressing their foreheads together gently, arms wrapping loosely around Zayn’s narrow waist.

“Couldn’t do it without you, Li.” Zayn whispers, a light blush on his cheeks. “You make me brave, yeah? Wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.”

“Show time, love birds. Give em all you’ve got.” Niall says gently, with a proud look on his face.

Liam turns to Zayn and holds out his hand, allowing Zayn to tangle their fingers together and then guides them gently towards the runway.

“Ready for this?” he murmurs into the shell of Zayn’s ear, and his breath catches in his throat when Zayn beams back at him and answers with confidence, “With you? I’ll always be ready.”

They listen to Giorgio briefly explaining his vision for the new line, and the coordinator sends them just as he wraps up his speech.

And maybe Liam is just hearing things, but as they start down the runway together, hands linked as the crowd breaks out into a light smattering of applause for Giorgio, he swears that he hears a whisper of “I love you Liam”.

Just to be safe, he breaks his pose to lean down and return the sentiment, Zayn squeezing his hand tightly in response and they both are beaming from ear to ear the entire way down the runway.

Ironically, his final thought before they reach the end is that maybe he should send Harry a fruit basket for his meddling.

And then his thoughts are drowned out by the crowd cheering, as Zayn reaches up for the back of Liam’s neck to drag him down and press their lips together. And who is Liam to refuse his boyfriend, he thinks, catching Zayn around the waist and pulling him closer, grinning into the kiss.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Outfits:  
> #1- Zayn-2016 Pre Grammy Gala & Liam-2016 I Am Bolt Premiere  
> #2- Zayn & Liam 2014 BBC Music Awards  
> #3- Zayn & Liam 2014 NRJ Music Awards
> 
> Fun fact I stumbled across while researching a bit: Giorgio Armani, the original founder of the Armani brand, was bisexual and only created his own fashion line at the urging of his longtime lover and business partner Sergio Galeotti. Galeotti supported Armani fervently until he died tragically of AIDS in 1985.


End file.
